


Letters from Gruhuken

by Jay Tryfanstone (tryfanstone)



Category: Dark Matter - Michelle Paver
Genre: 1940s, Beware POV, Gen, Ghosts, Norway (Country), Yuletide 2018, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17132993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryfanstone/pseuds/Jay%20Tryfanstone
Summary: In 1944, Unteroffizieranwärter Dieter Mayer is ordered to establish an anti-aircraft artillery position at Gruhuken, Svalbard. But the area is already occupied by unfriendly forces....





	Letters from Gruhuken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimm/gifts).



Longyearbyen, Norway  
26th July, 1944

Dearest Elise,

Do you remember that night in Bremen, before the war, when you and I walked home through the park, under the trees? The old man was playing his accordion, and we danced under the falling leaves. It was autumn, and although now when I look back I think of us in sunshine I remember you wearing my coat. You looked so beautiful, the very image of a perfect German woman, and I wanted so much to tell you, let's get married. But I knew your mother and father would not yet allow you to say yes.

I think of that evening often, Elise, in this barren place. It is right that we should reclaim these Nordic lands for Germany, for it was here that our Aryan ancestors were born and our warrior spirit imbues the soil itself, and you should see how efficiently our army has taken charge. A little organisation has worked wonders, and the population has soon learned that if they work as they are instructed, the benefits of our great German nation are open to them. It is hard, though, to get even a word of good German out of these sullen peasants. Elise, sometimes I wonder how much benefit we are to the Reich in these northern parts, where there is nothing to tax but dried fish and flatbread and even the fabled coal and iron ore are not as rich as rumoured - our miserable Ivans struggle to produce the quota, no matter how we encourage them. I must trust in our beloved Führer and his great plan for us, but I long to be of more active use to the Reich, a fighter pilot (although you know my eyesight is so poor) or a tank driver (although as Mother says I am so bad in enclosed spaces). Even a quartermaster like Cousin Willi, with his gold-rimmed glasses and his pathetic moustache! And sometimes the other officers, with their hand-tailored uniforms and their _When I was in Berlin with the Reichsminister_ , look at me as if - well. It cannot be long, though, until the war is over, all the talk here is of our secret weapons and victory. 

I remember that night in Bremen often. Here such trees as can be found are stunted and miserable saplings. Instead we are surrounded by mountains of ice and snow, which give such groans and cracks that sometimes the ground itself trembles. Often the mist and rain are such that one cannot see the sea, let alone the peaks above it. And yet one cannot escape the sea. Everywhere one goes, it is there, the dark water, and one cannot help wondering what lives underneath those gloomy waves. They say the Tirpitz was attacked by submarine, and yet sometimes when I lie awake in the barracks I hear the sound of the waves rise and fall as if the sea itself reaches out for us. The air is damp, one's uniform is always sodden, one cannot light a fire unless the kindling has been dried first - it is as if the sea itself is our enemy as much as the accursed Slavs and their allies. Yet I still believe! All is for the glory of the Reich.

Your beloved,

Dieter.

 

Longyearbyen, Norway  
25th August 1944

Dear Elise,

Just a swift note - praise the Führer, I must tell you that I have been selected for a vital task, protecting the Reich directly against the incursions of the Allied ships! I am posted to a new artillery outpost on one of the islands, a pleasant place in summer, they tell me, and not too bad in winter with sufficient coal. Such are the wonders of the Reich that our hut shall be shipped over with us, and all our supplies; there shall be a corporal, Unteroffizier Schmidt, and myself, and a team of three Ivans to construct the gun platform. We shall have all shipshape in a week or so, and then any allied plane or ship should beware the gun of Dieter Mayer! And Elise - I am promised that if I make a success of this post, I shall have leave early next year. 

Your beloved,

Dieter.

PS. I have not yet received a letter from you. Do make sure you are addressing the envelopes correctly.

 

Gruhuken, Norway  
1st September 1944

Dear Elise,

I write to you from the command post of Unteroffizieranwärter Mayer, at the German Station of Gruhuken, Svalbard. It is a splendid site, Elise, with a clear view of the sea and of the sky, and for military purposes our position at the southern end of the island of Svalbard is perfectly sited to resist the cursed Allied aggressors. The bay is easy enough for a steam tender to visit, although we had to clear some debris from the beach before off-loading our equipment and we have our supplies. I cannot imagine any of the local peasants stretching barbed-wire across the stones of the shore-line, but perhaps it was the remains of some primitive territory dispute. 

It cannot be said that all was landed without incident, for our Nissen hut was badly damaged during the crossing, and has proved suitable only for the Ivan. I have one of the miserable creatures, a half-starved savage who speaks no civilised language and bares his teeth at me when called to work, although he will learn soon enough that he must work to eat. I myself have taken over the surprisingly well-built hut which was already on the site: it even has two windows, and a porch, where I have sited the radio. Tomorrow I shall commence work on the gun-platform, although already I have identified a flat, paved area which might be adapted for use, next to the remains of an older hut. 

You may have noticed my singular possession. Unteroffizier Schmidt was taken ill very shortly after we dropped anchor in the bay. His illness was severe, involving chronic aches and pains of the extremities, and a doctor was clearly necessary. He did not even set foot on shore. It is a shame, for Schmidt was very enthusiastic in his support of the Reich, and always knew what to do in every circumstance, but I understand what is expected of me and am proud to carry out my duties for the Führer. In truth, Elise, once Schmidt explained to me the importance of constant alertness, I begin to feel that in some small way I can protect you personally as well as my beloved Germany. 

It cannot be denied that although the surroundings have a certain savage grandeur, with great red cliffs rising on either side of the bay, but the general impression is of desolation. The sea is sullen with ice, and haunted by seals, with their strange sharp cries and their dark heads bobbing in the waves. One never knows when they are watching. The beach is laden with the remains of dead creatures, most of which are long stripped of their flesh, so that in places one appears to be walking through a forest of bone, and yet elsewhere above the tide line the dead have been desiccated by the endless wind. I found one I could have sworn was a dog, its teeth bared, although as I approached it the sun dipped, and shadow made the thing difficult to discern. Yet for all its unpleasant vistas there is a pleasant atmosphere about Gruhuken. I feel welcome here, in a way I have not done elsewhere in this godforsaken country. Although alone (but for the Ivan), I do not feel lonely - indeed, there have been a couple of times today when I nearly said something to a companion, so strong was this feeling. I imagine him as one of us, a tall, blond man with a ready smile, with the kindness of a _Hauptbannführer_ of the _Hitlerjugend_. I can almost hear him whistle through his teeth as we worked together to unload the boat. This unseen presence I found most reassuring, for otherwise I own I would have found it hard to see the tender leave.

The Ivan is not so content. He even tried to force his way into my hut, when night fell, his face distorted, shouting his nonsense words at me. I was forced to be quite firm with him. Still, I am sure he will understand his role better in the morning.

Your beloved,

Dieter.

 

Gruhuken, Norway  
8th November 1944

Dear Elise,

I look back now on the enthusiasm with which I informed you of my first command, and wonder at my naivety. This awful place. I barely know what to write, Elise, and I fear I have been - the radio is - oh, God, the endless - 

I can at least still collect my thoughts. The gun at least is functional. The platform was successfully constructed, and the emplacement made on or about the 7th September. Since then I have seen a number of Allied planes, traversing the sea to the south, between the islands and the mainland. I have seen none of our own forces, and can only assume - 

The radio appears functional, and as required, I am attempting a daily report to Command at Longyearbyen. I have been unable to receive a response since 4th November, although must report much unexpected interference on the radio. There have been moments when I could swear I had reached another operator, as if they were holding their breath, and yet at times - Elise, I swear it; I can hear the English and their damnable Morse code. The tapping is all around me, I have just to turn on the radio and it sounds as an echo under my own posts, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap - it never stops. I can neither quiet it nor interpret. It is maddening. There must be submarines in the bay, or perhaps this is one of their secret weapons, intercepting our radio waves - I must stand firm for the Führer, but then - once or twice I swear I heard music. I could swear to it, music like our parents used to dance to before the war, as if I was listening to a wireless programme from the thirties. Yet who would listen to music here? 

I fear he - 

I believe I am alone here. I have to report the Ivan has gone. There were no supplies, of course, for the prisoners during the winter, for once the gun platform was in place there would be no reason for maintenance. He could not have known this, although his fear - I am sure it was fear at the end -

I have to admit that, a weakness in myself, I hesitated to give the final shot. They are not truly human, of course, the Slavs, but - I had him chained by then, after the time he tried to swim out to sea. It shows what fools they are, for who could survive more than moments in the sea ice? Yet I could not bring myself to kill him, although the way he whined, like a dog - and then - the radio, and the footsteps -

He was gone in the morning. I have not looked for him. I have brought the supplies into the hut, as much as I can, and moved the coal into the porch. It is filthy, of course, but the dark -

The sun has not risen for ten days. And yet the wind seems to bring the smell of burning with it, and the rain is grey with ash. I hardly know what to think - is the world itself burning? I have bolted the door, and I have my service revolver to hand. 

I hear him whistle through his teeth - is he trying to drive me mad?

The footsteps are - the footsteps -

 

 

 

10th May 1948  
Alta, Norway

Dear Miss Elise Derfflinger,

We are unknown to each other, but I have been given your address by the International Tracing Service of the International Refugee Organization. 

Your name was inscribed on the cover of a pile of letters written by the late Unteroffizieranwärter Dieter Mayer while serving as part of the occupying forces in Norway. I believe Mayer was originally stationed in Longyearbyen, Svalbard, and then moved to a post at Gruhuken, in the south of the island in the autumn of 1944. 

The attempted destruction of the Finnmark by your countrymen and subsequent ongoing reconstruction efforts have interrupted normal activities, and it was therefore not until April this year that sealers returned to Gruhuken. Herr Meyer's body was discovered at his post. His letters to you were laid out in front of him. 

We therefore thought it best to return them to you.

Yours sincerely,

Dr Arme Haugaard


End file.
